Closed Doors
by Asynca
Summary: Anna is engaged to Kristoff, but he seems more like a little brother to her than a husband-to-be. The trouble is, in her heart she knows she has a real sister who is the opposite. F/F.


Closed Doors

* * *

By Asynca

What have I dooonnnneeeeee

* * *

Kristoff is great, _really_ great. He's the kind of guy who will actually listen to me explain how I'm going to rearrange my room and then _help_ me do it, even when he kind of knows my bed won't fit beside the window. Although that time he did actually say, "I told you so," which _forced _me to tie him to my rocking chair and leave him there until after dinner. I did untie him, though, it's just that I didn't remember to until Sven blocked my exit through the front doors and gave me this _really_ stern glare.

Or there was that time that when we were having a sled race and there is _no way_ I could ever have won it because Kristoff's such a pro, but somehow the crank came off Kristoff's sled and he announced he had to stop. Victory by forfeit is still victory, right? I happily claimed it, but that afternoon, I went around to blacksmith's to see if I could get Kristoff a new crank as a surprise. When I asked for a crank, the blacksmith just stared at me. "It's a sled," he said to me, as if I was asking for a spare set of wings. "There's no crank on a sled."

I have so much fun with him, so much. And it's nice when he kisses me, but afterwards I feel… Well, I don't know how to describe it. I feel _wrong._ I love him, I know I do. But it just doesn't feel right. It's like passionately kissing your best friend: you love them and everything and the compliment of having someone _want_ you is nice. But in the end, they're still your best friend!

I twist the engagement ring on my finger, and the diamond sparkles in the fading sunlight spilling in through my curtains. It's rose gold with a fiery pink princess cut. It cost him more than he could afford, and Elsa told me that she had to talk him out of spending even _more_.

Come on, Anna, I think. Cheer up, look at that enormous, beautiful ring! This is your happy ending! The gates are open now! You've found your The One! The kingdom is prosperous and peaceful and the flowers are blooming and the sun is shining and Elsa is home…

Elsa.

It's funny, but having her back was the only thing that really ever mattered to me. They could close those big old gates again, for all I care. As long as Elsa's door is open.

I walk up the corridor and test the handle, scared like I _always _am that it will be locked. It isn't, and I open it.

She's sitting at her desk reading, with her beautiful long cape all fanned out around her. She's decorated her room in pastel blues and white marble and it just looks so beautiful. She looks beautiful in it.

"There's this thing called knocking…" Elsa says dryly to me, not looking up from her book.

"Yeah?" I counter, walking up to her and leaning on the edge of her table with both hands. "I sort of recall you saying something about the door never being closed again…"

"Well, I have this big problem where my little sister keeps letting herself in while I'm busy…" She glances up at me, pretending to be stern but I can see the corner of her lips turned in a smile. She's trying to hide it from me, but she should know by now she can't hide _anything_ from me anymore.

"Yeah, real busy," I say, leaning over her desk and trying to read the topic of the book upside-down. It's not easy because my plaits are dangling in front of me and the tips of them are touching the pages. I completely expect her to be reading fairy tales, to be honest. "Busy reading the… _History of Trade in Arendelle, from the 1300s though the 14—_Wow," I say, standing up again. "Okay, that's _actually _busy. Maybe I _should_ go."

Elsa's smile reveals itself and creeps up to her big blue eyes. "No, stay," she says, closing the book in one swift, elegant movement. "I should take a break, anyway."

My stomach flutters. Unfortunately, I think it shows on my face. "We should go out to the meadow!" I can't stop myself from suggesting. "It's such a nice evening outside_, _and the grass out there is _so soft_ you can just lie on it for _hours_ and it feels like you've been there for five minutes… and you're just nodding at me like you think I'm crazy."

She laughs to herself. "Think?" she says, but gives me a sympathetic expression. "No, it's just so nice to hear you speak like that. It's just so nice to hear you _happy_."

I thread my arm through hers and walk her over to her big bay windows and the spectacular sunset through them. She's not watching it, though. She's watching me.

It makes me blush. "I _am_ happy," I say quietly. I can't look at her, though, or I'll make it worse and my whole head will probably catch on fire.

Elsa, obviously trying to coax me towards self-combustion, lifts one of those delicate hands and her thumb brushes over my cheeks. It's exactly where I know all my freckles are. "So am I," she says. "After all these years."

She's so beautiful. Her hair is beautiful. Her face is beautiful. Her dress and probably everything underneath _that_ is beautiful. She's elegant and stylish and smart and sweet… As her younger sister, I should be totally jealous, but I'm not.

As her sister, there's a lot of things I should be that I'm not. There's also a lot of things I shouldn't be that I want to be.

This close to her, I can see the gentle glow on her cheeks and the fact her lips are parted ever so slightly. I stare at them.

As if reading my mind. Elsa swallows and looks away from me. "Where's Kristoff?"

Internally, I groan. Like we're not separate people with our own hobbies and interests and, well, desires… What I actually do is shrug mildly. "I don't know," I say as a single syllable. "Hopefully somewhere really far away, cutting ice or writing duets with Sven or whatever."

She nods, still not looking at me, and then attempts to reclaim her arm. I don't let her. She looks down at it and then at me and then she frowns for a moment. Just for that second when I exhale it's in a cloud of steam like the temperature has spontaneously dropped. It doesn't last. "You should probably go," she says.

"No," I tell her firmly. "I should stay. We have _ten years_ to make up for. You said yourself you needed a break!"

"And I had one, and now you should go."

Not this time, she doesn't. "I thought you said no more closed doors," I tell her, turning her to face me. "Elsa, don't slam one in my face again. Not anymore."

_That_ stops her. She looks up at me again, that shattered expression on her face. It's the reaction I wanted, but even as I see it I feel my heart break for her. "Anna, I didn't mean—" Without any warning, she throws her arms around me. She's cold; she always is when she's upset. I hug her anyway, because it's Elsa. "I'm sorry, I wish I could explain."

My heart jumps. Our chests are pressed so tightly together I wonder if _she_ can feel it. She can't just say that, she _needs_ to tell me. "Explain what?"

She shakes her head against mine, and she doesn't let me go.

While I'm trying to figure out how to get her to tell me, I get distracted. Her hair is just so soft and full I find myself absently burying my nose in it. I can feel her smile against my shoulder, and I'm sure she thinks it's really cute… until I burrow too far and reach her neck. I can feel my own hot breath around her ear, a diamond earring that used to belong to Mother all that's hanging between my lips and her skin.

I want to kiss her neck. I want to. At this second, I want to tilt her jaw and press my mouth against her smooth skin. I want to hear the sounds she'd make and feel how helpless she is in my arms.

Just beside my lips I see her throat bob. "Anna, no," she murmurs, but it's so gentle.

I don't. Our chests are heaving against each other; she's breathing quickly as well. I can see her big four-poster bed over her shoulder. I used to sleep together with her in it when we were both little girls. I want to again. I want to wake her up in the morning, too. Just… differently. But I still want to be on top of her when I do it.

When she pulls away from me, she sees where I'm looking. She's flushed and it makes her look even more perfect. Despite that, though, her skin is cool to touch. I know she's upset, and I know she's hiding something from me. I hope beyond hope that I've guessed what it is.

We're still clasping each other's forearms. She glances up at me from under those beautiful blond lashes. She takes my face in her hands, looking heartbroken. "Anna, we can't. We can't. You're just so young..." That was kind of a moot point, since if eighteen was old enough to get married, I supposed it was old enough to make all sorts of other bad decisions. When it's clear that argument is a lost cause, she tries something else. "_Kristoff_."

I hardly even hear his name, I'm just so overjoyed. She's comparing _this_ to _him, _and I'm engaged to him. She knows what I want, and – that flush, her cool skin, her discomfort – wow, she wants it, too? Like _really?_ At that second, I couldn't have cared less about him. Okay, wow, that sounds _really _awful. Obviously I care about him. It's just that…

"I know I'm engaged to him," I find myself saying before I realized exactly what was coming out of my mouth. "But he's kind of like a little brother."

It makes her eyebrow twitch. "As opposed to a _real_ big sister?"

I grimace. "Okay, that came out wrong. But, yeah."

Her expression softens, and then hardens. Then, her lips press together. "I can't do this to you," she says eventually. "This isn't right. This isn't how it should be."

I know what I'm going to say before I do. I take a tiny step toward her again, so our slippers are touching. "Then let me do it to you, instead."

When she looks hesitantly back up at me again, her lovely eyes are filled with both hope and hopelessness. It both breaks my heart and fills it up at the same time, and then breaks it again. Kristoff had never made me feel like that.

When I lean slowly forward to her, she doesn't move away from me. She doesn't shut her eyes, either. It's like she wants to be absolutely certain that what's happening actually is happening.

I brush my lips against hers. Hers are cool and soft, _so_ soft. Much softer than Kristoff's. I feel them move slightly against mine and I can't help smiling into them. Elsa, I think, saying her name over and over in my head.

I pull away for just a moment and we watch each other, our faces close. I bump noses with her affectionately, expecting her to smile and she does. It's what happens afterwards that disarms me.

She makes this desperate little sound, this tiny whimper and it goes _straight _to— well, I'm sure you can guess. Less than a second later my arms are around her again and I'm pressing my lips firmly against hers.

I don't even care how cold she is, I'll warm her up. My hands are everywhere; laced in her luscious hair, around her slender waist, pulling her tightly against me. All I can think is this is Elsa, she's _everything_ to me, and I don't even care that what we're doing is awfully, terribly wrong. It may be wrong, but it feels so, so right. _Everything_ to me.

"Stop, Anna! Stop—!" Elsa manages to disentangle herself and take a step away from me. She's not cool to touch anymore, and I'm not breathing in tiny clouds.

She takes another step away from me, and then turns, and walks stiffly towards the door. She's _leaving? Now?_

Every step she takes, I feel my heart breaking a little more. "Elsa!" I say, actually I think I sound a little angry. "Elsa! You can't always _run away_!"

She gets to the door and leans against it.

I just don't know what's going to happen. I want her to come back here and step straight back into my arms and then I want to take off that beautiful blue dress with its flowing blue cape…

"We need to remember who we are, Anna," she says. There's a strange tone in her voice, and I have _no_ idea what she's thinking right now. Apparently not what I am.

There's a pronounced _click_.

For a moment I don't even really know what's going on. Elsa turns around against the door.

She's _locked_ it. My jaw falls, and my heart lifts.

She gives me this knowing, smug smile. It's… wow. It's… Let's just say that even though my sister's technically a snow queen, she's always been the hotter of us. And now? Yeah. Wow. _Whoa_, even.

When she steps back into my arms, her lips dip beside my ear. "I hope you'll forgive me breaking that promise just this once," she says, her breath tickling my neck. "But since you don't know where Kristoff is…"

At this second, I hope he's _on Mars. _I hope everyone is, everyone except me and Elsa.


End file.
